


The Earl and the Count

by ckret2



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Cheese Metaphors, Crossover, Paperwork, Trans Female Grell Sutcliff, Unexpected Flirting, this fic has it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: After a ship runs aground with everyone aboard missing—everyone, that is, but a mysterious corpse in a coffin—Queen Victoria passes the mystery to Ciel, who takes it to Undertaker.Who immediately calls Grim Reaper Dispatch to report a rogue vampire.





	The Earl and the Count

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this fic because I want to apply to a zine that requires a Black Butler fic in the application and I went "crap, all I've got is a couple of drabble-length character studies I never posted."

"It's so rare that you bring guests without asking for my help." Undertaker ran his long fingers lovingly over the polished coffin.

"There's nothing you can offer on this case," Ciel said. "Unless you happen to be familiar with the Russian ship _Demeter_."

"Ah?" Undertaker tipped his head back. "No, I don't know anything about it."

"Then my services won't be needed today." Sebastian was delicately brushing coffin dirt off his jacket sleeves.

Undertaker made a strangled noise. "Perhaps I was too hasty! Describe the case to me—maybe I'll know something?"

"If you _do_, we should get the information in exchange for the coffin."

"You know my fee, Earl."

Ciel sighed. "Fine. The _Demeter _ran aground this morning. The captain’s log details the crew disappearing one by one during the journey from Varna to Whitby. The only human body found aboard was in that coffin." He nodded toward it. "Her Majesty had the contents of the ship delivered to Phantomhive Manor for us to investigate."

Undertaker sat on the table beside the coffin and slid off the lid. "How very remarkable." He tilted the corpse’s head back and forth. "I've never had a guest who looked so lively so long after death—at least, not before _I _cleaned him up." He slid an arm around the corpse's shoulders, gently lifting it. Dirt spilled out of its long wavy black hair. Undertaker took one of its limp hands to study the sharp nails. "Yes, _very _remarkable. Your work?" He glanced at Sebastian.

"No. He appeared that way when we opened the coffin," said Sebastian, hiding his disappointment that he couldn't take credit for this miraculous circumstance.

"Strange..." Undertaker's silver bangs drooped onto the corpse's forehead, studying its face for any trace of makeup or magic. "There's no doubt it's dead. How...?"

The corpse's eyes snapped open.

Undertaker froze. The corpse froze. Icy blue eyes rolled around in their sockets, taking in the arm supporting its neck, the hand holding its hand, and the startled man bending over its coffin. The corpse snapped, "Do you _mind?_"

Undertaker shot up, hands next to his head. The corpse dropped back into the coffin with an "_Oof_." Dirt puffed up around him. He coughed, waving it away.

"Your fangs!" Undertaker exclaimed. "You're...!" He cracked up, laughing so hard he slid off the table and onto the floor.

Without the slightest change in his expression, Sebastian radiated smugness. "I hope this will serve as pre-payment the next time we come calling."

Ciel, who had only _just _lost his cool enough to press his back to the door, rounded on Sebastian. "You knew?! Why didn't you say something?!"

"You didn't ask."

"Didn't—! I referred to it as a corpse, didn't I? If you know I'm incorrect, you should correct me!"

"Wouldn't it look inappropriate for a butler to speak back to his master, my lord?"

"_In private! _You had _all _the time we were in the carriage to London!"

"And my lord, you never called it a corpse. All you said in the manor was 'Disgusting' and 'Close up that coffin, we're taking it to Undertaker.' Just now, you called it a 'human body,' which doesn't necessarily imply the body is inanimate."

Waving his cane toward the coffin, Ciel snapped, "I also said there were no living people on board, which was wrong!"

"Was it?" Sebastian's gaze slid to the corpse, who was irritably brushing dirt from his hair and clothes. Smiling coldly, he asked, "_Are _you alive, sir?"

Ciel snapped his mouth shut, scowling; but he gave the corpse a new, uncertain look.

"What an impertinent question," the corpse huffed. "Every Englishman I've ever met has boasted about his nation's enlightened attitudes—yet you're still limited to the binary of 'life' and 'death'?" Sniffing disdainfully, he climbed from his coffin, carefully stepped around Undertaker—still a pile of giggling limbs on the floor—and resumed cleaning his black suit. "But _you_, sir—I suspect you already know full well what I am."

Wearing the same smile, Sebastian bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Of course. Neither dead nor alive. Undead."

"A vampire!" Undertaker clapped.

"Such things are real?" Ciel asked Sebastian quietly. Sebastian nodded.

"A wonderful guest, indeed," Undertaker said. "And a wonderful prank. Thank you for this gift, Earl."

"'Earl'?" The vampire's sharp gaze turned on Ciel.

Ciel lifted his chin, meeting it unwaveringly.

The vampire didn't so much walk as glide across the room. "Forgive me for not greeting you sooner! I've been awakened so suddenly from my slumber, I wasn't aware that I was in the presence of one of my equals."

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "'Equals'? How so?"

"I studied English society extensively before traveling abroad, including your titles of nobility—I do believe that 'earl' is your country's equivalent rank to mine?" His smile was much like Sebastian's: charming, handsome, cold, hungry. "My name is Count Dracula. I am most honored to make your acquaintance."

###

"Corrupt souls?" Dracula asked, surprised. "Really? I would have imagined that they taste foul. Certainly, my most delectable meals always come from the virtuous."

"Quite the opposite," Sebastian assured him. "Forgive me if this metaphor isn't illuminating—although I have learned a great deal about _cooking _food in my time at Phantomhive Manor, I'm woefully ignorant as to its _taste_—I am assuming that you remember mortal food?"

"It has been ages, but yes, I vaguely remember food. Go on."

"Grapes may rot, and milk may spoil, and in either of these cases it is then considered foul, is it not? But grapes in the hands of a winemaker or milk in the hands of a cheesemaker turn into delicacies. The 'corruption' enhances the flavor of what would otherwise be very plain foods."

Dracula nodded. "Yes, I understand. Whereas my primary diet is blood. If we liken blood to figs—they pair well with, say, a chevre, a cheese so fresh it's nearly still warm from the goat's belly; but something hardened and brittle like parmesan will overpower them. Perhaps a delicacy for you would spoil my meal."

"Perhaps so," Sebastian agreed. "I'm afraid that's outside my expertise. I never drink... blood."

"I'm starting to feel like a hunk of cheddar," Ciel muttered, leaning back against Undertaker's desk. "How much longer do we have to stay?"

"Patience, Earl," Undertaker said, each syllable hitting a different note. "Grim reapers are zealous about monitoring vampires. I've already messaged Dispatch; if you're not here when their investigator arrives, they'll just track you down. Even _I _know it's easier to go along with their tedious procedures. "

Ciel sighed. "We're going to miss dinner at this rate."

Undertaker waved a dog treat.

"No, thank you."

Someone knocked the door. "Ah!" Undertaker said. "That should be them."

"Allow me." With a cordial smile, Sebastian opened the door.

Grell's eyes lit up. "Oh—!"

With a cordial smile, Sebastian shut the door. He turned around. "Please ask Dispatch to send someone else."

Grell opened it. "Hellooo!" Her wide grin nearly cut her head in half. "When I was told to check out a vampire, nobody said the most handsome demon in London would be here, too." She leaned adoringly toward Sebastian. He leaned the other way. "To think I complained about being sent!"

"You should have complained harder," Sebastian said.

"Don't be like that, Bassy dear." She moved as if to pat Sebastian's head, watched him flinch out of range, and swept by with a satisfied smirk. "And it's _always _a pleasure to see _your _pretty face," she told Undertaker as she passed.

He hummed noncommittally, grinning like a cheshire and twirling a lock of silver hair around one finger in mock coquettishness.

Grell spared Ciel only half a look before scoffing. "Usually I'd have to check to see if you've been enthralled, but your contract prevents that. So I can skip you completely."

"Then we can leave?"

"Assuming I haven't enthralled Bassy into wanting to stay." Grell winked toward him. He frowned. "But, yes. If we need any information, we'll send a telegram."

Ciel looked toward Sebastian. "Then let's go."

"Hold on," Undertaker murmured. "Your Victoria gave you the _Demeter_'s cargo because she wants you to discover what happened to the crew, did she not?"

"Of course."

"Then," he tilted his head toward Dracula, "when Grell interviews him about how he got here, shouldn't you listen to what he has to say about it?"

Ciel looked at Dracula, then Grell; then sighed, leaned against Undertaker's desk, and crossed his arms.

Sebastian pulled out a pocket watch, checked it, neatly clicked it close, and said, "If it would please you, I can head home first to ensure that a late dinner is prepared when you return to the manor."

"If I have to stay, so do you."

Sebastian hesitated; then nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Now, where...?" Grell's gaze fell on Dracula—who seemed, more than anything else, bewildered by her—and her eyes widened. "Oh, _my_. Hello, tall, dark, and handsome. Lucky me—three gorgeous men in one room. I could party until dawn."

"But you won't," Sebastian said.

"Don't underestimate me." She slid onto a chair near Dracula, pulled out a notepad and pen, and asked, "So. What's your name, handsome?"

"Count Dracula," he replied.

"A _count_, no less! From...?"

"Transylvania."

"Transylvania..." She jotted down the information, then graced him with a shark-like smile.

He met it with a furrowed brow and faint frown, as though he was puzzling something out.

Grell had never once brushed off a gawker when she could instead bask in the spotlight. So she lowered her pen and said, "You've been staring since I came through the door. Haven't you ever seen an English lady before?" She winked.

Ah. That was the hint Dracula had been wanting. His brow smoothed and his charm reappeared. "I confess—although I've heard much about London's lovely ladies, I've never had the opportunity to meet one until now. Tell me—is your vibrant scarlet hair common, or is that a feature only the once-dead ladies receive?"

Sebastian and Ciel stared at Dracula in wide-eyed shock.

For a moment, so did Grell. But then her face lit up like a gas-soaked house under a match. "You _charmer!_" she squealed. "The red's all natural, actually! You can _always _tell when a woman's not a natural redhead. Death did give me some _other _assets, though." She ran her tongue along the tips of her sharp fangs.

"Any vampire would be deeply desirous of such a mouth," Dracula said.

"_Oh! _I would _love _to listen to you talk about which parts of me you deeply desire. _But_," she tapped her notepad, "unfortunately, we _do _have a questionnaire to get through. I'm off duty once I get this in, though—perhaps I could give you a proper tour of London?" She batter her eyelashes.

Bowing his head, Dracula said, "It would be my honor to see London's nightlife on the arm of such a charming woman."

Grell turned to Undertaker and mouthed, "_Thank you._" Undertaker—sitting at his desk with his chin propped in his sleeve-bundled hands, watching the proceedings with a grin—let out a quiet, creaky laugh.

"Shouldn't grim reapers not get along with vampires?" Ciel muttered. "They don't get along with demons."

"Vampires are taken on a case by case basis," Undertaker murmured. "A vampire killing doesn't steal or damage a soul, so to grim reapers, it's no different from any other murder. Vampires who are good about getting in their paperwork can be quite popular."

Ciel blinked. "Vampires have _paperwork?_"

"So!" Grell said. "Let's start with the basics. Are you registered as a vampire with Grim Reaper Dispatch in Transylvania?"

"I am. I have been since the day I was turned."

"And you have your license to keep possession of your cinematic record after death?"

"Not on me," Dracula said. "But I assure you everything is in order."

"I trust you," Grell said. "Headquarters can check with the Transylvania Branch."

Ciel sighed, crossed his arms, and settled back to listen.

###

"And have you brought any other vampires or thralls with you?" Grell asked. Her flirtatiousness had petered out over the course of the interview as she focused on the minutiae of Dracula's trans-Mediterranean journey.

"None with me," Dracula said. "However, I already have one thrall in England who has been awaiting my arrival."

"Do you only plan to feed while you're here? Or will you be turning anyone?"

Ciel had found himself wondering that same question. He knew little about vampires outside of folk tales he'd previously dismissed. Sebastian seemed to be acquainted with them; Ciel would have to ask him for information later.

But if vampires did indeed go about exsanguinating humans and turning the corpses into more vampires, that made this Dracula the exact type of threat that Queen Victoria had tasked him to neutralize. Depending on Dracula's plans...

"I intend to turn a great many people," Dracula said amiably. "As many as I can."

Ciel frowned.

"You're going to give us a lot of extra paperwork," Grell lamented. "I can hear Will grousing already. You'll be a dear and do your half of it so we don't need to chase you down, won't you? I'm sure you know how many forms it takes for an undead human to keep its cinematic record."

"I'm well aware. My manservant Renfield will tend to all the paperwork."

"Wonderful." Grell lowered her pen. "You'll have to stop by the London Branch within the next week to sign a few little forms for us to keep on file—but everything else appears to be in order. Welcome to London, Count Dracula."

He bowed his head in gratitude. "I apologize that I wasn't able provide my license. I wasn't expecting my luggage to be held up."

"These things happen." Grell waved off the apology. "I can show you our local office during our tour of London. Besides that, we're done here."

"Then so are we," Ciel said. "Come, Sebastian."

Undertaker waved. "I owe you a free favor," he called after them. "The prank with the coffin was well worth it."

Few stars were yet showing when Ciel and Sebastian stepped outside, but the moon was bright and cold. As soon as the door shut, Ciel muttered, "Ate every crewman aboard. Planning to turn who-knows-how-many Londoners into his kind. He'll be trouble."

"Will he?" Sebastian asked with an unkind smile. "Certainly, the queen would object any actions that would reduce her empire's population. But if the count is here to _turn _people, not _consume _them, wouldn't the number of subjects under her rule remain the same?" Ciel gave him a dirty look. Sebastian went on, "Can a vampire not be an Englishman?"

"I doubt Her Majesty will see it that way. You're more familiar with vampires than me. I'll be relying on your knowledge to..."

A red and black shadow glided around them, and a folded piece of paper emerged from its depths. "My address," Dracula said, with Grell wrapped happily around his other arm. "At least, my address nearest to Phantomhive Manor—I have property across England. I'm given to understand that my luggage was taken to your manor?"

Ciel did an admirable job of acting like he hadn't been overheard plotting. "I'll see to arranging its shipment."

"Wonderful." Dracula stepped back, then paused. "You're a remarkable fellow, Sebastian. I've never met a demon employed as a butler. I'm sure you must hear that all the time."

"Once in a while," Sebastian said.

"I quite enjoyed our culinary discussion," Dracula went on. "I've never had blood from someone whose soul has been _fermented _rather than _rotted_. Perhaps in the hands of a proper chef..." He glanced at Ciel—who felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise—then back to Sebastian. "I'm sure you began preparing your own food because you found eating it raw tiresome and flavorless?"

"Like the first humans to spice their meat," Sebastian agreed.

"I've often found myself with the same problem. Dining on uncooked ingredients makes for a poor meal, no matter how high-quality the ingredients may be. If I am to make a home in England, my estate could benefit from a chef trained in the ways of a proper English butler."

Sebastian's eyebrows raised. "I'm afraid you have no way to pay me for such a service."

"No?" Dracula said. "We share the same prey but prefer different cuts of the meat. A meal you season for me is one you season for yourself. I think we could find the arrangement mutually beneficial."

Sebastian's expression froze in place, concealing his thoughts as he turned over the proposition.

"Come now," Grell chided, although she was more amused than put out, "don't tell me you're trying to take another man home right in front of the lady on your arm?"

"Tonight, I am yours," Dracula reassured her. "But I would be remiss not to extend a job offer to such a worthy candidate while I have the opportunity."

"Sebastian is already under a contract," Ciel said firmly. "Until his obligation to me is up, he's in _my _service."

"And I would never try to steal him away from you," Dracula said, placing his free hand over his chest. "But your contract will eventually... terminate. And when he's looking for a new employer, I hope he'll keep me in mind."

Ciel shot a dark look at Sebastian. But he merely bowed his head. "Your offer is most generous, sir. But for now I should be escorting my young lord home."

"Of course. It's far too late for a child to be out," Dracula said. "Dangerous things roam the streets at night." Grell snickered; the moonlight glinted off her and Dracula's fangs.

And then they twirled away together, Dracula all but disappearing into the shadows while Grell's coat fluttered like a flame; already, she was talking to him about what late-night theater they could catch.

**Author's Note:**

> Also available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/187636931922/the-earl-and-the-count).


End file.
